


Borderline Harassment, Probably

by lindoreda



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Thorin, M/M, Two Shot, librarian Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindoreda/pseuds/lindoreda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is the most exciting thing to happen to Bilbo in a long time, and all he does is sit in the library and read. But it takes a special kind of person to tackle The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and Bilbo is determined to find out how special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo's side

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, it's that one shot I promised. I got the idea during a particularly rough time in If it Must End So, so it's short, light-hearted, and has very little dialogue, but it was a fun break. It also hasn't been beta-read, so if you spot any obvious mistakes, let me know.

When Bilbo Baggins, librarian at the Eastfarthing Public Library, thought of his mother, he remembered his old dreams. His desire to see the world, to travel to far off destinations and just get lost in an adventure. But dreams of world travel needed money to come true, and Bilbo being a homely little soul, had naturally gravitated toward the source of his desire for adventure: books. He sometimes wondered if his mother would be disappointed that he had become a librarian (not the most lucrative career path, to be sure), and that his own tendency to become set in his ways meant that adventures in imagination were the only kinds of adventure he was likely to have. That the most exciting thing that could happen at his job was a long overdue book being discovered and returned apologetically by a harried college student. But he did love his books, as he thought of them, and that was enough.

Well, until _he_ started showing up.

Everyday at 6 pm, he would appear, and read The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire until 7pm. An odd choice for almost anyone, being both extremely long (five volumes!) and very dry. It was also more than a hundred years old, so the language could be a little challenging to those not used to it. At an hour a day, it would be years before he finished. If he finished at all. More academic-looking men had tried and failed. Even someone writing a PhD thesis on the Roman Empire would probably avoid it.

All of that would be enough to count as excitement, even if one didn’t take any other details about the mysterious reader into account. He was tall (though nearly everyone was taller than Bilbo, so he was no judge), fit, bearded, had long dark hair streaked with white that he kept tied back in a low ponytail, with piercing blue eyes and an angular face. Strikingly handsome, even though he wasn’t in the bloom of youth. The opposite of Bilbo, really, who was instantly intrigued. It was rare enough to find a man with hair that long, and rarer still to find one who evidently enjoyed longer histories. He couldn’t say if the man actually enjoyed them, he supposed, because he always had the same neutral expression while he read. But he must be getting something out of it, because he came without fail every day. He always sat at the same table, near the front desk, though he never looked at or acknowledged Bilbo, at least not when Bilbo was looking. His daily greetings when the man entered and left the library were only ever met with a curt nod.

It did not occur to Bilbo that the absurdly long book might be a blind for his real intentions. Who would come to the library for anything other than reading? That was why he didn’t notice the way the man’s piercing eyes followed him when he went to reshelve books, or help other patrons with the computer system.

Still, this way of approaching a book large enough to be an effective bludgeon didn’t make sense to Bilbo. And Bilbo was nothing if not thoroughly sensible. So, one day, when this had been going on for some weeks, he asked his daily patron, “Why don’t you just check it out? You’ll never finish it at this rate.”

The man seemed startled at being addressed with so little preamble. He did not look up, and some color came into his cheeks. “My library card doesn’t work,” he replied, as if that explained everything, or indeed even made sense. True, some older cards didn’t work with the fancy self-service machines, but that was what Bilbo was at the front desk for. It wasn’t exactly an intractable problem. 

He was forced to revise his opinion of the man. Perhaps he had some anxiety disorder that made the prospect of dealing with another human to check out a book truly terrifying. Or talking to someone to get a new card. This did not stop Bilbo from trying. Customer service was important, dammit.

“You could get a new card,” Bilbo suggested persistently. “It’s very simple.”

That was how Bilbo learned the name of his mysterious patron. The man, Thorin, filled out the application for a new card without comment, though he thanked Bilbo without making eye contact when he was given his new card. Bilbo viewed it as a small victory. He had learned Thorin’s name and spoken with him briefly, though he felt like he was no closer to understanding the man.

After all, Thorin did not check out the book that day, or any day since.

Bilbo tried several more times to initiate conversation with Thorin, his curiosity overpowering. But the blank expressions he received in return were not encouraging, and ultimately, this was a library. Talking was discouraged, and if he broke his own rules too often, no one else would obey them, so eventually he gave up. Thorin was strange, and interesting in his strangeness, but he followed library rules, was quiet and respectful, and just generally kept to himself. Bilbo had no business pestering him.

Even if he was very handsome and some days were slow enough that there was nothing better to do than stare at him. Not professional, none of it. Borderline harassment, possibly.

One night, Thorin paused as he was leaving the library, as if he was considering saying something, but ended up shaking his head and leaving silently as usual. The next day, Thorin didn’t come. Bilbo worried, so used to the routine that he feared something had happened. Thorin could have gotten in an accident. Or maybe it had been something he’d said, and Thorin had decided that another library would be more suitable to his purposes. One with a less nosey librarian. Not that he knew what Thorin’s purposes were.

It was when he started wondering which would be worse, Thorin hurt and unable to come or Thorin simply no longer willing to come, that he realized that he was behaving absurdly. He knew nothing about this man except his name and what he was reading. They couldn’t even claim each other as acquaintances, for goodness sake. Still, he wondered and worried for a week, looking up quickly whenever the door opened.

His nerves were shot by the eighth day, when, as if nothing had happened, Thorin appeared at his usual time, picked up his usual book, and sat in his usual seat. Bilbo could have run over and hugged him. 

Actually, there were a lot of things he felt like he could have done, but none of it was particularly professional. And his handsome stranger probably wouldn’t have appreciated it.

Thorin’s brief absence made Bilbo feel like he had to do something, though. He was attracted to and interested in this man, and he wasn’t handling it in a very healthy way. He needed to try something, and if it failed, at least he had put himself out there. In a less creepy way than he was managing to do so far.

The next morning, he jotted down his phone number and slipped it into The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Thorin would find it eventually, and when he did, it would be his move. 

Assuming no one else picked up the ponderous tome in the meantime. No one ever did, but it was a potential flaw. That, and the possibility of Thorin giving up. He had vanished for a week, after all. Maybe his interest was flagging. 

“Or maybe, he has a life, you colossal idiot,” Bilbo would mutter to himself, shelving books with a little more than the necessary vigor. Getting a crush on a man he knew nothing about was the closest thing to an adventure Bilbo had ever had, and it was trying him sorely. At least in the past, his heart had the decency to fall for classmates and coworkers, people who he knew likes and dislikes for, views on politics and religion, etc. Not just a name and a book.

Thorin found the phone number that very day. He opened the book as usual, and the scrap of paper came fluttering out as if borne on angel’s wings (okay Bilbo, quite enough of that). Thorin picked it up uncertainly, reading the numbers and then glancing around for a likely culprit. Bilbo kept his eyes glued to his own book, not daring to look up. Then, for the first time since Bilbo insisted on Thorin getting a new library card, Thorin put the book down before the appointed time. Bilbo didn’t need to look up to know he had done it; the book made a fairly substantial thud whenever it was moved. He waited breathlessly, nearly falling out of his chair when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

There was a text from an unfamiliar number, reading, _Who is this?_

Bilbo glanced up, to see if Thorin had noticed him looking at his phone. Thorin had his phone in front of him on the table, and had gone back to reading his book. Apparently. It could be a ruse. Bilbo hid his phone behind his book, and replied, _You texted me, remember?_

Thorin’s phone buzzed on the table and he looked away from the book immediately. He glanced around after reading the message, as if looking for someone with a bad poker face. He grimaced when no one seemed likely (there were maybe three other people there, aside from Thorin and Bilbo, all of them engrossed in something). He tapped the keys of his phone, and Bilbo felt his go off again.

_I found your number in a book. Aiming for the cute librarian? If so, you missed._

Bilbo blushed scarlet, and quickly hid his face behind a stack of unsorted books. How did he respond to that? Thorin didn’t even think it being his number was a possibility! Well, little point in hiding now. _You think I’m cute?_ He closed his eyes before pressing ‘send,’ feeling just daring enough to write it, but not daring enough to watch himself do it. He was flirting with a library patron by text message, for goodness sake. This was teenager behavior.

There was a noisy thud as The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire fell to the carpeted floor. Bilbo slowly peeked over the top of his stack of books, discovering a red and flustered Thorin on the other side, staring at his phone like the words it displayed were written in another language. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire lay open on the floor, its aging pages clearly getting wrinkled and bent by its unceremonious fall.

Then Thorin looked up, and locked eyes with Bilbo. They were both very red, and stared at each other dumbly for a moment, before Thorin turned back to his phone, and Bilbo saw four letters flash across his screen.

_Very._

It had never occurred to Bilbo that someone could have an ulterior motive for coming to the library, but it would appear that Thorin did. He never did manage to finish The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. But he did manage to finish dinner with Bilbo.


	2. Thorin's side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin had never believed in love at first sight. He had never been so happy to be proven wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several of you clamored for a part two, so here it is! This is literally the fourth draft I attempted, as I have a little more trouble getting into Thorin's head space, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. I considered posting it as a separate one shot, but it really doesn't stand alone, so it's getting tacked on. Your support for this little minific has been really amazing, so this is for ya'll.

Thorin had never believed in love at first sight. It was an overly-romantic notion, belonging to the imaginations of people who had either never been in love, or wanted some kind of justification for why their loves had not gone well. It wasn’t meant to be, they’d say. It would have been love at first sight, and that’s the mark of true love. Nonsense. The justifications of the weak. Like everything else, love had to be built over time to have any value. Something built quickly would also break quickly.

He began to revise his opinion the day his first nephew was born. But as it wasn’t a romantic love, his opinion still held. He loved his nephew intensely, a fierce desire to protect him blooming suddenly in his heart, but that generally wasn’t what people meant when they talked about love at first sight. Just because he had experienced the birth of an intense emotion all at once didn’t mean he was going to credit the assertions of the overly-romantic.

The cracks Fili had formed widened with Kili’s birth, but Thorin held firm. The way words utterly fled him when he held his nephews meant nothing. Of course family bonds would be born quickly, infants required protection. That didn’t mean it would be so simple in other circumstances.

It took one minute in a library to completely shatter these carefully constructed justifications. In retrospect, aggressive denial tended to end that way. The universe took perverse pleasure in proving mortals wrong.

In the first place, there was really no good reason for him to be at the library at all. Kili claimed he needed a book that his school library didn't have for a research project, but the public library was a five minute bike ride from the house. There was no reason to drive, especially when Kili biked home every day anyway. There was certainly nothing preventing Fili from accompanying him instead. But Dís was oddly adamant, and there was no refusing her, especially when it came to her sons.

Thorin should have known a set up when he saw one.

But there was no time for such thoughts. One moment he was slightly annoyed with Kili for taking advantage of his soft spot, and the next moment he was lost. The librarian greeted them politely, and Thorin glanced over to perform his social duty, and found the words stuck in his throat. It was an embarrassingly long moment before he could at least nod an acknowledgement, a blush starting to creep over the back of his neck.

Oh. Oh no.

Thorin really did hate being wrong. That was why he started coming back initially. He wanted an excuse to be there, to determine if he was really truly wrong, or if he had just… misunderstood his reaction. He gave himself plenty of time to decide, choosing the longest book he could find, but he really didn’t need that long.

He knew he hadn’t been wrong about his feelings almost immediately. Right after learning the librarian’s name, in fact. He wore a name tag, so that was easily and casually obtained on the very first day. And that was embarrassing. It took longer to admit it, and in that time, Bilbo tried to talk to him. He was so startled and flustered by it, he didn’t have time to think of a decent lie. So he said the first thing that came to mind, which prolonged the interaction.

It was only after leaving that day with a new library card that he realized that Bilbo knew his name now. He was suddenly struck by the need to hear Bilbo say it. He wondered desperately what his name would sound like in Bilbo’s voice, and was deeply disappointed when he realized he couldn’t imagine it. He had so little to work with, and his own stubbornness was to blame. Not to mention how creepy this all was, having such thoughts about someone you’ve barely spoken to.

He was absolutely mystified when Bilbo kept trying to talk to him. He couldn’t explain it. Bilbo didn’t show this kind of attention to the other patrons. There was a place in the back of his mind that whispered that maybe Bilbo was interested in him, but those thoughts were easily defeated (though only after they paralyzed his vocal cords whenever Bilbo spoke to him). His attracting Bilbo’s attention in that way was almost as ridiculous as love at first sight.

He conveniently forgot that he had been wrong before.

Then Bilbo stopped trying to talk to him, evidently tiring of unrewarding, one-sided conversations. Thorin wondered then why he was still coming. He had only started coming to try and clarify his feelings, and oh were they clear now. He’d had no plan beyond that. Should he try and approach Bilbo? Bilbo was obviously open to talking at least, so it probably wouldn’t be unwelcome. On the other hand, it was possible Thorin had rendered the situation unsalvageable by being so taciturn. In that case, wouldn’t it be better to stop coming, and spare himself the pain and aggravation of one-sided feelings?

Reluctantly, Thorin turned to his sister for advice. He was surprised by how unequivocal her answer was.

“Stop going,” Dís said immediately. “You’re torturing yourself. If you’re not going to at least say something to him, you need to quit now.”

“I was expecting to hear something different,” he admitted, deftly catching a ball thrown by Fili, and tossing it back a little farther than Fili was expecting.

“If you want someone to tell you what you want to hear, ask someone else,” she replied with a shrug, hoisting Kili off the fence he was trying to climb. When Thorin turned back to catch with Fili, Dís and Kili exchanged a glance.

Let it never be said that Dís was above interfering in her brother’s love life, or using her children to arrange it.

Thorin stopped going. It was strange. Being in the library everyday, reading that book in silence, there had been nervousness and tension, but it had almost been pleasant. Staying home during those hours, knowing that he could be seeing Bilbo instead, was the real torture. He lasted a week, before he decided that he couldn’t go on like this. He had to do something. Anything. It didn’t matter if love at first sight was real or not. Floundering around in indecision really did not suit him, and it was much more humiliating than being wrong.

Not that he had a plan. He just started going to the library again, as if nothing had changed. He wondered if he imagined the plaintive, almost relieved note in Bilbo’s voice when he offered his usual ‘good evening.’ Had he been missed? He didn’t dismiss the thought immediately this time.

Still, he didn’t do anything different that evening. And he didn’t expect to do anything different the next evening, either, which was why the piece of paper fluttering out of the book was entirely unexpected. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. A cursory glance around didn’t suggest a likely culprit. Who would be trying to slip him their number?

Not that he was necessarily the target, Thorin realized. Bilbo did have to reshelve books, and of course there were other librarians who had that task as well. Still, Thorin was curious. The number had been in a pretty unlikely book to need reshelving, given that based on the check out record, he was the first person to pick it up in a long, long time. So he sent out a feeler, curious as to the type of person who would leave their phone number in such a book.

He probably should have expected the response he got, but oddly enough, they didn’t ask who he was. That suggested that whoever did this was still in the library, and knew that it came from him. But it definitely didn’t sound like he was their target. So, emboldened, he guessed.

He wasn’t sure why it never occurred to him that it could be Bilbo’s number. He should have at least considered it. Thorin could have avoided embarrassing himself that way. But the way Bilbo stared at him after responding to his ill-conceived message suggested that maybe he shouldn’t be embarrassed. If Thorin were feeling poetic, he would have said that look contained infinite promise, and that was why he decided it was better to double down.

It wasn’t until much later, when Bilbo reached up on tiptoes to kiss him for the first time, that Thorin knew he had been right. At least he was right about something.


End file.
